


Bittersweet

by birdwrites



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: F/F, Sick Fic, catradora, post S1, sick catra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdwrites/pseuds/birdwrites
Summary: Why did it always have to be Adora taking care of her?





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> A silly sickfic that I had the urge to write last night. Sorry for any errors, this is unbetaed and I’m not the greatest writer!

Catra wakes up and feels like she’s on fire. Her skin crawls at the unwelcome heat, a thin sheet of sweat grossly coating her skin, and she unceremoniously tosses her thin blanket off and onto the rocky ground below her.

“Adora?” 

Catra cringes at the sound of her own raspy voice. No use hiding her problems when she’s been betrayed by own speech she supposes. 

Adora quickly emerges from behind the trees and ducks into the entrance of the cave they’d lucked out on. The information the rebellion had learned due to Catra’s temporary alliance had lead the two of them on a spy mission of sorts, an attempt to keep an eye out on an area supposedly under the watch of the Horde. Perhaps a poor judgement call; Catra and Adora were very obviously not cut out for undercover work from the moment they set off. It had been a rough day, starting with Adora shouting and swinging her stupid sword at boulders, Catra yelling at her to stop making so much noise (hypocrite), a very narrow avoidance of a run-in with a Horde soldier, and the drenching rain that topped off the absolute mess of a mission. 

“Hey, what’s up?”  
“Am I dying.”

Catra says it more as a statement than a question because no, clearly she’s not dying, but she may as well be. 

“Woah, are you okay?” Adora asks, concern stretching across her face.  
“Does it sound like it?”  
Catra’s throat feels like she’s just eaten a bag of rocks and her voice certainly doesn’t sound any better. 

“You’re sick. Do you have a fever?”  
“I don’t know! I’ve never been sick!” Catra groans, chest falling sharply with frustrated breaths. Her eyes flutter over to meet Adora’s for a brief moment before there’s a hand on Catra’s cheek, rough and scarred fingers quickly brushing over her flushed skin before moving to rest on her forehead. She frowns. 

“Definitely a fever. Argh, I bet it’s because of that stupid rainstorm last night!”

If she had the energy Catra would’ve given some snappy remark back, tossing the blame on Adora pettily. Actually, if she had the energy she wouldn’t be sitting around in an uncomfortable, humid cave in the middle of nowhere still after a pointless mission she didn’t even want to partake in. 

“Just rest here for a minute, okay? I’ll go get some fresh water and I’ll see if I can do something about that fever,” Adora finally says. Catra can’t do anything but growl softly and glare at the other girl, and wallow in her own annoyance that once again, Adora just had to come to her rescue. There wasn’t even anything she could do about it this time, which is the most frustrating part. 

A surge of pain shoots through to Catra’s temples and she falls back to the cave floor with a groan. Really, of all times and places for her to really get sick for the first time. She’d take having fleas over this in a heartbeat. 

This... this little alliance thing Catra’s got going with the princesses? She’s not really too sure why or really how it happened but she knows it’s not going to last much longer. Catra is still Hordak’s second in command, and being second in command means Catra has a few liberties going for her. Choosing her own mission forces is one of those liberties, which lead her to going a little off the original plan. Just a little. If Hordak asks why she didn’t come back as soon as expected, it’s because she was gaining intel on the inner workings and plans of the princess council, though deep down Catra knows she’s not going to be able to give any information out that genuinely puts Adora’s life at risk. If Catra is finally going to get her glory, she wants it to be a fair fight.  
However, she hasn’t gotten much out of her quest, at least not yet. Adora isn’t THAT stupid, and neither are any of the other infuriating princesses. All eyes are always on her every move in a way very opposite to the kind of attention she wants to be getting. 

For now though, she’s stuck on this dumb mission with a dumb cold with a dumb girl. Who she definitely does not miss or care about at all, by any means. Definitely. 

Whatever, Catra thinks. This is too much for her depressing state right now. 

 

“Catra?”

 

The feeling of a cold and very wet piece of fabric makes Catra jolt awake. Holy crap, did she really fall asleep?  
“Hey! Stay still! This should help with the heat of the fever, just rest,” Adora starts. 

“Don’t startle me like that!”  
“Tired Catra sure keeps her guard down. I called your name right when I walked in!”  
“Well I didn’t hear you!”  
“Why is that on me!” 

There’s no venom in their words.  
Catra tries to sit up again. 

“Woah woah, take it easy-“  
Adora startles at the obnoxiously loud groan Catra aims her way in an effort to cut her off. She’s so exhausted. 

“Oh come on Catra. You seriously can’t rest for ONE day? If this is about your whole ‘oh no, I can’t lay here in a stupid cave even though I’m SICK because mean ol’ Adora is trying to HELP me’ I’m going to scream. I know you’re not weak, Catra! You’re sick!” Adora fails her arms helplessly.  
She’s met with a glare and a hiss, an actual HISS from Catra. It’s a small and quiet one, but she notices it, and god Adora is trying so hard to keep a straight face. It’s funny and it’s cute, which it shouldn’t be, but it is. With a final defeated pout Catra flops back onto the ground, blanket beneath her overheating body this time around. Adora re-soaks the cloth and wrings it out a little before draping it back over Catra’s forehead. She kneels down and sits back against the cool, jagged wall, eyes trained on Catra’s resting face 

She totally hit the nail right on the head with that little frustration induced speech. 

 

“I can feel you smirking at me.”

 

This time Adora doesn’t hold back her laugh.


End file.
